Free The Great Powers Outage by William Boniface

nothing is going to stop it.”
    â€œWhat plan?” I pressed. “What are you trying to do?”
    â€œIt’s all right in front of you.” He swept his hand to indicate the crowd of followers as they continued to move along. “The people are helping me with my quest to make everybody perfect by first making every potato chip perfect. It’s an apt metaphor.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?” I asked warily.
    â€œPotatoes are like people. They’re all basically the same, but they do have subtle differences that create havoc and disarray if they’re left on their own. You see it in regular potato chips the way they’re all dissimilar,” he explained with distaste. “But if you mash them all into a uniform paste, you can stamp them out into identical forms; bake them; and bring unity, order, and perfection.”
    My eyes widened in alarm as the Red Menace completed his analogy.
    â€œI intend to do the same thing with the people of Superopolis, and Pseudo-Chips will be my tool for accomplishing it.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN
    Promises, Promises
    The Red Menace had admitted right to our faces that he was using the chips as his tool to complete his lifelong plot against the people of Superopolis. And yet I still had no idea what exactly he was trying to pull off, let alone how he intended to use the chips to do it. The best thing to do would be to stop people from eating them. But how?
    As I arrived at school on Thursday, another problem reared its ugly head—so to speak. Melonhead was standing next to the school flagpole attempting to give a speech.
    â€œAttenthun, fellow thtudenth of Watthon Elementary,” he was spitting and spattering. “Choothe me ath your clath prethident and I promithe that I’ll bring AI himthelf to the thchool to therve uth hith Amathing Theudo-Chipth during every thingle clath.”
    Melonhead’s ability to deliver on such a promise was impossible—but as with any good politician, he didn’t let that stop him. Fortunately no one was hearing his pandering pledges. There was too much competition for my schoolmates’ attention.
    Plasma Girl and Little Miss Bubbles were handing out miniature tea scones that they had spent all last night baking in their Amazing Indestructo Thermal Ovens. They were passing them out to anyone who would come close enough to hear Tadpole making his own speech. The Spore was trying something similar as part of his unchallenged race to be class coroner, but so much mold had spread over the cookies he was giving out that he wasn’t getting any takers. That didn’t seem to bother him, though, and he stopped his speech every few minutes to eat another one himself.
    Transparent Girl hadn’t let up at all in her campaign against me for treasurer. She wasn’t even attempting to be subtle. She had gone straight to handing out money. But despite her offer of a dime to anyone who would come close enough to hear Melonhead speak, she still wasn’t succeeding in drawing a crowd to him.
    â€œNo one wants to stop and listen,” she complained to Cannonball, who had also noticed the difficulty his candidate was having in attracting any attention.
    â€œHmm. Give me a hand,” he said to his best friend, Lobster Boy, who was standing next to him. But Lobster Boy didn’t move. He just stood there, his claws shoved deep into his pockets and a look of concern on his face. Cannonball snorted in annoyance as, all on his own, he grabbed Melonhead by the shirt collar and wrapped the flagpole line around his chest. As Melonhead spluttered in alarm, Cannonball pulled on the cable, hoisting the startled presidential candidate into the air.

    â€œThuffering thethame!” Melonhead wailed. “What’th the crathy idea?”
    â€œNow people will pay some attention,” Cannonball declared confidently.
    Sure enough, kids came wandering from all directions, not wanting to miss the